


Vendetta

by neverminetohold



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Drabble Sequence, Friendship, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prohibition, Rating May Change, Revenge, Warnings May Change, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8118172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: 01. It was his turn to be selfish. Thus, Avilio Bruno was born.02. That evening, they played with fire.





	1. Risoluto

He stared at the photograph: Luce, wearing his best suit, his bright eyes and eager smile rendered in shades of gray. The pain was back, the scab of his dull existence peeled off by the cruel reminder of what he had lost. He read the letter, the elegant curves and slopes of written words illuminated by a crack of lightning. The paper felt damp and cool underneath his fingertips, was thus undoubtedly real.  
  
"Vanetti."  
  
Angelo felt muscles stiff from disuse pull up the corners of his mouth as if straining against his skin. It was the caricature of a smile at best, razor-edged and full of teeth. The blood rushed in his ears, louder than the raging storm outside, the patter of rain against the windowpane.  
  
That cold, hollow place inside him, gnawing at his guts - what better thing to fill it with than this burning need for revenge, now that he finally had a target?  
  
But he would need to be careful. This letter was like a carrot, dangled in front of his nose. Whoever had sent it would hardly have done so out of the goodness of their heart. They had waited, chosen this moment as opportune to contact him. No doubt they intended to use him, like a chess piece.  
  
Still...  
  
He knew it wasn't what his parents and brother would have wanted for him. For seven years he had forced himself to keep on living. For them. Revenge wouldn't bring them back. Angelo didn't even expect that it would make him feel better, whether he succeeded or died trying. But, right in this moment, he felt _alive_.  
  
He had done enough in the names of Testa, Elena and Luce Lagusa. It was his turn to be selfish.


	2. Scherzando

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That evening, they played with fire.

Angelo sat sideways on the chair. That way his back was firmly turned on his waiting present and the cake, with its layers of marzipan and chocolate underneath whipped cream and strawberries.  
  
His toes dug idly into the carpet, hands occupied with the stack of cards they had played with until his little brother had gotten bored and begun to look for a more daring pastime. Luce was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his skeptical gaze fixed on the flickering flame of a candle.  
  
"It's really not hot?" he asked, trembling fingers creeping closer to the bright golden light and quickly away again when he felt the first wave of heat.  
  
Angelo hid a grin against his palm, pretending to yawn. He could see where this was going. He set the cards aside, hands gripping the edge of his chair as he leaned forward to get a better look.  
  
"It's not the wick that's burning," Corteo explained. His eyes lit up at being given the opportunity to share what he had learned from one of his many books. "It's the paraffin, the stuff the candle's made of. If you touch the wick - "  
  
"You do it, then!" Luce demanded, as if he were not relieved to be off the hook.  
  
Corteo hesitated, then sat down before the candlestick with great reluctance. He may have known the science behind the phenomenon, but that obviously didn't mean that he wished to put it to the test.  
  
All three of them watched the dancing flame, its bluish core that stretched upwards into shades of gold that tapered off in orange-red. How the wax melted and dripped unto the gilded tin, raising an acrid, metallic smell.

Corteo squared his shoulders and swallowed thickly. His lips were a thin, unhappy line, pressed firmly together in the expectation of pain. His fingers inched closer to the candle, began to shake.  
  
Luce grinned, clearly getting ready to goad him on or call his 'bluff'.  
  
Looking at both their faces, the emotions displayed there, Angelo decided that he wasn't interested in hearing his little brother gloat or seeing his best friend hurt. Besides, he trusted that Corteo was right, as he so often was.

Angelo bent down even farther and reached for the wick. His fingers pinched close around the braided cotton, quick and steady. Smoke curled up in stinking wisps, right into Luce's stunned face that broke into a delighted grin.  
  
"Wow! It really wasn't hot?"  
  
"Not at all." Angelo showed his hand. The skin was pale and unharmed, the tips of thumb and forefinger just a bit flushed. He turned to Corteo with a bright smile. "See? You were right."


End file.
